


The devil you know

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Doomed Relationship, F/M, First Time, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif would wed only a man who would keep her back as well as her bed.  And if her thoughts turned, more than once, to the sons of Odin, that was a common enough habit among the people of Asgard, both male and female; but it might have surprised some to know which of the two she preferred.</p><p>It certainly surprised Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The devil you know

"We're done."

 

Loki's steely tone rang ill in the throne room. If he was trying to sound like a king, Sif thought, he had better practice more. Odin's voice caused one to obey before one even thought about action; Loki's merely grated the air.

 

The Warriors Three made their obeisance and she heard their footsteps as they retreated from the hall. Sif's eyes remained riveted on Loki's for a moment longer, trying to convey both her frustration and her contempt.

~~~

 

There was a time when Loki's tricks did not touch her. Others, to be sure, especially his brother, who understood subterfuge on the part of his enemies, but who would never suspect it in his own people. Long before either Thor or Loki were known for their deeds, Sif grew up with them and knew their foibles.

 

As with any Asgardian maiden of the nobility, Sif knew that her future was not entirely of her choosing. Still, she trained and drilled and read, honing both her formidable intellect and her combat skills against the day when either or both should be needed. The thought of marriage did not daunt her - only the possibility that she might be joined with an unsuitable partner.

 

Sif would wed only a man who would keep her back as well as her bed. And if her thoughts turned, more than once, to the sons of Odin, that was a common enough habit among Asgardians, both male and female; but it might have surprised some to know which of the two she preferred.

 

It certainly surprised Loki.

 

Sif had returned from the dining hall to find Loki and Thor and their usual comrades around the common fire. Thor and Volstagg were taking wagers on which lady of their acquaintance would be Fandral's next conquest.

 

"Attempted conquest," roared Volstagg. Fandral smirked and stroked his mustache, and Thor grinned good-naturedly and mentioned another name. Sif rolled her eyes, wondering whether she should join in to defend her sex or depart to her rooms.

 

"Never fear," said a silky voice behind her. "They wouldn't dare mention your name, Lady Sif."

 

"There are few things that I fear," said Sif, not turning around. "Their coarse jesting is not one of them."

 

"Of course," said Loki. "You don't play the games of a courtier or a tease. I've always liked that about you, Sif."

 

"It's a waste of time, anyway," Sif shrugged. "I have no desire for power or position. Why would I turn to flirting, or worse, peddling my maidenhood, when my sword and my mind can win me what I want?"

 

She turned to smile at Loki, who smiled back, a bit half-heartedly.

 

"Are you well, Loki? You seem - subdued."

 

"Not my usual witty self, am I?" He glanced over at the rambunctious group in the firelight. "I find I am in the mood for more - contemplative company. You will excuse me, I hope."

 

He made as if to bow and pass her, but Sif laid a hand on his arm and he paused.

 

"May I join you?"

 

Loki's eyes rested on her hand for a moment. Then he extended his arm for her to take, and they went together out of the blazing room.

 

It was the first of many evenings where one or the other of them would linger just inside the entrance, just outside the ring of firelight, until the other might appear. They would then turn to each other and wordlessly leave the room, wandering the halls and gardens until deep night and sometimes longer.

 

Their conversation was easy, as between friends of long standing, and yet Sif sensed a newness in it, something - tentative? - in the glances and smiles exchanged between words. She had felt a woman's desire before, familiar heat, never sated, held for a future husband. Beyond kissing and touching she had not explored, and men whom she had favored thus knew better than to take that which she did not offer.

 

Still - Loki? The sly, quiet, teasing, dark boy, always lurking in the shadow of his brother and his father? The boy who had grown into a tall, handsome, talented man, who yet did not put himself forward in court, but made his comments and his motions unobtrusively.

 

The man who, she realized, was now speaking to her as a man to a woman. Not as an offer of marriage, or as a brother would speak to a sister, but as a lover who fears revealing too much to the beloved.

 

The night that this occurred to Sif, they were standing on a high balcony, overlooking the Bifrost; Loki had just finished telling her what he knew of Midgard, which was little enough. He had been there once, with Volstagg and Fandral, and Sif had not. She hardly knew how the tale ended, only that he finished speaking and stood looking at her, grinning.

 

"You're not listening," he complained. "That was the high point of our visit. Where is your mind, my lady?"

 

Sif was nothing if not bold. She reached a hand up to lay her palm on his cheek, his grin turning to a look of startlement, and she stroked her thumb over his thin lips and said softly, "Here. It is right here."

 

He did not speak, but neither did he move. As if stalking something wild, Sif moved slowly closer, until the hem of her gown brushed his boots, and she slid her hand around the back of his neck, not pulling but offering.

 

Loki's wide eyes searched hers for a moment. When he bent his head and Sif felt his hands settle on her waist, she sighed and tipped her face up to meet his kiss.

 

She was no wanton, but she had kissed enough of Asgard's men to recognize a skillful tongue, and Loki's was as talented with caresses as with words. Slowly and luxuriously he kissed her, his hands never leaving her waist, and when he seemed to have explored her mouth thoroughly he began over again, adding soft nips and sighs throughout.

 

By the time he released her lips Sif's heart was pounding and her breath was short. Her eyes opened to behold the dark gaze of Loki Odinsson bent on her, his body still, as if he were waiting for something, a word, a move.

 

"Yes," said Sif, knowing exactly what she was doing.

 

His smile was brilliant and unguarded; he pulled her against him and kissed her again as she put her arms around him.

 

"You're beautiful, Sif," he murmured against her hair. "I've wanted you for so long."

 

"You shall have me," she promised.

 

Sif took his hand and pulled him back into her rooms, closing doors so that none but far-eyed Heimdall could see, and slid the straps of her gown over her shoulders until the silvery folds fell like a garland at her feet. Loki took in a quick, deep breath at the revelation of her body bared thus.

 

"Just the sight of you is like heady wine," he said softly. He took his time disrobing, his eyes hardly leaving her form, and Sif stood watching until he came to stand close to her, the heat of his skin belying its paleness.

 

"My lord," she teased. "Will you have some wine?"

 

He smiled and laid a finger on her lips.

 

"No lords or ladies here," he said. "Just Sif and Loki. Just as we are, entirely away from everyone and everything else."

 

"Only we two," she agreed.

 

Then his arms were around her once more, this time skin to skin, mouth to mouth, and he bore her down onto the bed and spread himself out over her, slender and supple and wanting. Sif let her hands run wild as he explored her body with tongue and fingers; when his lips took hold of her nipple she cupped her breasts in her hands and arched her back to give it all to him.

 

Loki's long fingers were slipping through her silken hair when he left off tormenting her nipples and leaned over her, smiling.

 

"You're delicious," he told her. "I could feast on you all night."

 

"Could you?" she whispered, not shy, but struck with a suddent inspiration. "Would you like to taste something I have offered to no one else?"

 

His eyes widened, and now it was Sif who smiled. Slowly she drew his mouth down into her kiss, at the same time shifting her legs so that he now knelt between them, and she spread her thighs and bent her knees until she felt the soft air on her sex.

 

"Yes," Loki breathed against her cheek. He dropped open-mouthed kisses down her throat, over the curve of her bosom, drawing his long tongue down a straight path to halt just above the delta of soft fur between her legs. When he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes he looked like a cat about to lap up cream.

 

It was an apt description. Sif had heard of this practice from other women, and knowing what pleasure she gave herself with her own fingers, she had only imagined the bliss of being pleasured by a tongue. Loki kissed and nuzzled her thighs, the swell of her mound, at last licking his thumbs and parting her outer lips and letting his tongue sink slowly, far too slowly, into the wet heat within.

 

He's done this before, Sif thought. Indeed, he seemed to know just how long and how firmly to lick, suck, thrust with that wicked mouth, and she writhed and moaned and sank her fingers into his hair. And heard him chuckle at her agony.

 

She had not sparred with Loki for some time; she had underestimated him. The slim hands, pale in comparison to Thor's, were like steel, his arms wrapped around her hips, pinning her in place. She could thrash her arms and torso, but from waist to knees Loki commanded, and he held her fast while he had his fill of her womanhood.

 

"No - magic," Sif managed to gasp, one hand still gripping his head. He made a sound like a growl - or perhaps a purr - and closed his mouth over her and ran his tongue firmly up between her inner lips, to prod her clitoris until she howled and climaxed and hammered her heels on his back.

 

As her ecstasy subsided she tried to roll out of his grasp, wanting him inside her, but he kept his grip, not holding her down, but holding on to her, his mouth still busy whipping her into another frenzy. Sif scrambled and crawled and twisted, and ended up on her knees gripping a bedpost with Loki's tongue still at work, bringing her off over and over.

 

Finally Sif realized that she had been released; looking down, she saw an impish grin, slick with her arousal and framed in a face reddened with exertion.

 

"No magic, Sif, my sweet," he panted. "Except the spell you have cast on me."

 

Sif let out an exhausted groan, but she was laughing as she collapsed face down on the bed.

 

"Silver tongued demon," she said. He crawled up to lie atop her, arms and legs embracing her body, his mouth tender against her neck and shoulders.

 

"You said you had not enjoyed this pleasure before," he murmured. "How do you like it?"

 

She groaned again and rolled her backside up against the hard column of his cock, and he chuckled.

 

"I thought as much," he purred. "Now, will you return the favor?"

 

Sif pushed and turned until she lay on her back and kissed his hot mouth, ran her fingers through his tousled hair.

 

"Perhaps another time," she murmured.

 

Loki frowned and drew back, looking hurt.

 

"I hadn't thought you to be a tease, Sif," he said. "Will you leave me to satisfy myself, then?"

 

Her eyes widened. "No! That's not what I mean, my prince," she said hastily. "What I mean is that I will satisfy you, but not with my mouth. Not this time..."

 

She lifted her knees, wrapping her legs around him, and something dawned in his eyes.

 

"I am no novice - " he began.

 

"Obviously," Sif interrupted with a smirk.

 

" - but a man of the Aesir is not obliged to hold to his virginity," he went on, "so there is no censure for me. I would not wish to cause you to lose anyone's esteem along with your maidenhood."

 

She kissed him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

 

"Loki," she whispered. "I give you this freely, my body, my love. No one need know, if you think it unwise. Share this with me."

 

"Yes," he said softly.

 

He watched her face, his own eyes wide, as he entered her slowly, carefully, drawing out and pushing back in; it was strange and delicious and delirious. Sif's eyes were closed halfway when at last she felt his hips pressed all the way against her, stretching her thighs in a sensual ache.

 

"Now," he said breathlessly, "now, we are one."

 

He began to move, steadily, in and out, and with each thrust Sif brought her body up to meet his, angling to let him in deeper, finding a place where the pressure of his manhood brought back the anticipation of her own pleasure.

 

"Loki," she gasped, "I'm going to - so close - please - "

 

"Yes," he hissed, moving faster, harder, the sound of their flesh slapping together spurring her on; she clung to his shoulders as he worked above her, groaning and muttering, and when she climaxed this time she cried out and Loki echoed her with a shout and ground into her, head down against her neck, pulsing inside her inmost body.

 

Sif held his head in her hands and kissed his face, his hair, his mouth, whispering to him her pleasure, her gratitude, her utter astonishment. When they lay together afterward, face to face, legs tangled, sharing kisses and touches, Loki whispered, "Please don't let this be the last time, love."

 

"No, love," she agreed and he kissed her hands and sighed.

 

~*~

 

It wasn't the last time. There were many times after that, discreet and daring, but as time went by, there was talk of Thor taking a wife and further talk of the Lady Sif being so honored. Loki and Sif did not speak of it, but their trysts were now tinged with a desperation and sadness.

 

"Why not you?" Sif murmured. "Why may we not be wed?"

 

Loki shook his head, and his voice was muffled in her hair as they stood embracing on the balcony once more.

 

"Thor will continue the line of Odin. He must have a wife worthy of him - which you are, my love," Loki replied, though it cost him to acknowledge his brother's sovereignty.

 

"You are also a prince of Asgard," she protested.

 

"And I may not choose my bride, either," he said ruefully.

 

"Then why?"

 

Sif stepped back and looked up at him with something like resentment.

 

"Why what, Sif?" Loki asked quietly. "Why did we come together in the first place? Why do we continue, when it seems obvious that we will be forced apart by duty?"

 

She did not cry, had not shed tears since her mother had passed, but the color rose in her cheeks and she clenched her jaw. Loki stepped closer and opened his arms and she leaned into him, arms curled on his chest.

 

"I know why," she whispered. "Because I wanted love, before I lost my chance for it in an arranged marriage. It never occurred to me that it would be to Thor."

 

"Whom you also love," Loki said painfully.

 

"Not like this," she said, pulling his head down to kiss him fiercely.

 

After that, the matter was not mentioned again between them. But Loki kept finding reasons to go abroad, at Thor's side in battle or off on some search for knowledge, and Sif threw herself into combat training, not because she missed him but to spill out her bitterness in physical exhaustion.

 

The last time was the eve of Thor's coronation. Barely a word was spoken between Loki and Sif; their lovemaking was at first urgent, then repeated more slowly as if to savor each other.

 

Loki held her as she drifted off to sleep, then slipped back to his own rooms to ponder his own future.

 

~*~

 

"We're done."

 

Sif lingered after the others had turned to go, her eyes burning at Loki, who stood staring down at her as at a stranger. No - as an inferior. He leaned forward, tilted his head slightly as if impatient for her to speak or depart. For one wild, disturbing moment, after she learned of Thor's banishment, she had thought that perhaps Loki might consider making her his queen - but there was no room in his gaze for love, or even pity. His gaze was as cold as the Frost Giants they had battled on their ill-fated mission.

 

Sif turned her back on the man she no longer knew, and her long strides carried her toward her companions and battle, where she belonged.

~~~

All characters and settings are the property of their respective copyright holders. As far as the author is aware, this work is not based on, adapted, copied, or derived from any other work in any medium.


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